Winning My Ex-Crush

Fenella's POV

"I don't like you." Laird said it coldly.

"What? You're lying, right? I know you're lying. If you're lying, maybe you're just teasing me as usual. If so, it's okay, but why are you joking like this?" I asked quickly.

"Enough, Fenella. I'm sick of you." Laird's voice was still low, and there was no smile on his lips at all. His green eyes stared at me with anger.

"Why are you saying that? Why don't you like me? Give me a clear reason." Tears started to fall on my cheeks.

I couldn't believe any of this. Laird has been my friend since we were kids. He's my neighbor, always by my side; we were even dancing on the prom's dance floor just a few hours ago. How could his attitude change so quickly?

"You're not my type," Laird said again, firmly in a low voice.

I could barely hear him, but somehow I caught Laird's words. My heart clenched. I truly couldn't believe what he said.

"What? I'm not your type." I pressed my hand against my chest.

"Do you want me to believe all your insults towards me just because I'm not your type? Is that it?" I asked with my mouth agape. My breath almost stopped upon hearing that.

Completely nonsense! Laird's gaze on me didn't falter at all. He remained silent.

"Is that it?!" I asked again, with a raised tone.

"That's it," he replied shortly.

I snorted in disbelief with my mouth wide open. I was almost on the verge of anger. I knew Laird was hiding something from me, but his answer made me really angry. I was so angry that I couldn't even protest anymore. My tears stopped because of my anger. Instead, I laughed.

"Okay, fine. If that's the case, what is your type, then? What kind of girl do you like enough to treat me like this in front of everyone?" I pressed.

"Tell me, what is your ideal type of girl?" This time, I challenged Laird, and my anger barely contained itself.

"I like girls who are independent and not clingy like you. I like girls who are confident, naturally beautiful, popular, humble, and honest."

He spoke and then fell silent again. He looked up, took a deep breath, and suddenly pointed to a billboard advertising our school.

"Like her. That's my type of girl."

I turned to see the billboard he pointed at. There was an advertisement about a successful alumna from our school. I knew the girl in the advertisement; everyone saw her every time we entered the school building. I saw her ad everywhere. I even saw her on the front cover of women's magazines.

"Now you understand, right? You are very different from her. You're just a foolish, spoiled, and ugly girl. No boy will ever like you."

The blond-haired boy turned around and walked away.

"If that's the case, why did you choose Amy? Aren't I your best friend? Why did you choose that bully even though she's not your type?" I asked loudly to stop Laird in his tracks. He turned to me.

"It's precisely because you're my best friend that I don't want you to get cocky." He spoke.

"If I had to choose between some random girl and you, I would still choose someone else. Even if it's a bully."

After saying those words, Laird walked away, leaving me behind. My eyelids blinked in disbelief at all this. My heart shattered into pieces. My chest ached, my fingers' tips pricked, and I clenched my dress tight against my chest. It hurt so much that even my ears felt numb.

I turned and walked back to my dorm with tears on my cheeks. My tears flowed uncontrollably. I ran with blurred vision. I didn't care about my shoes left on the road. I ran as fast as I could to the dorm, my feet scraping.

Everything felt like a mere dream, and now I was like a fairy-tale princess running home after the clock struck. Everything seemed shattered and erased. The sparkle of prom night's magic had vanished, replaced by an endless abyss of sorrow.

Truly, this was absurd. This was insane. I couldn't accept this at all.

I will retaliate! Laird Evans, you just wait for my revenge!

***

Present days, 7 years later...

"Great!"

I glanced at the photographer as she commented on the results of the images I had taken earlier. On the computer screen, the photo quality appeared to be excellent.

The idea of this picture shoot was distinct, with monochromatic hues and the play of light creating silhouette shadows as photo enhancers.

"This looks good." I pointed to one photograph scrolling across the screen.

An unusual stance that resembles ballet moves. The pose appears to have garnered appreciation, even though I was unaware of its name.

Kim, the photographer, screamed, "Yes! Perfect! Thank you. I believe we'll have a lot of fantastic shots, thanks to you."

We hugged briefly to convey our gratitude, then shared little kisses on the cheek. Jessy, my agent, grinned heartily this time, expressing his approval.

"Excellent job, Fenella. I'm confident your portfolio will be even better this year," Jessy added as he led me back to the changing room.

"Are you sure?" I asked Jessy with a bright smile.

"Of course. I told you that this is your year."

Jessy became even more eager. Even as I was stripping down behind the curtain, I could make out his remarks.

"Are you going to the fortune teller again, Jess?" With a slight chuckle, I replied in the same loud voice.

"Ha! Even without those tarot cards, I know you'll become more famous this year."

I came from the dressing room curtain right after changing out of the white maxi dress into a tight knee-length black knit dress. Jessy quickly handed over the maxi dress to the assistant designer.

"Your name is becoming more recognized among designers, and your Instagram followers are growing. What have I said? Making beauty tutorial videos will help you gain popularity."

I sat in one of the makeup chairs and began brushing my long hair. The makeup assistant let me touch up my makeup.

"Tomorrow you have a dress fitting for Baumer's show preparation."

"Tomorrow? What time?" I asked.

"Wait, let me check." Jessy opened his phone and looked at the markings on his agenda. "At 7 a.m."

I mumbled softly when I heard the early morning schedule for tomorrow.

"Why is that?" Jessy frowned.

"Hmm. That's okay. I'll manage."

"Manage? Is it really so difficult to get up early?"

He suddenly clutched my shoulder, his mouth agape.

"Aha! I remember! You're going out with Tom tonight, right? You naughty girl!" Jessy teased me with a big laugh.

My cheeks flushed, and I smiled shyly.

"Why not?" I carefully flicked my hair towards Jessy.

"Yes, it's fine," Jessy quipped.

"But?" I asked again, hesitantly. I just knew somehow that Jessy wanted to nag me on this.

Tell me honestly, what's on your mind?" I asked him.

Fenella's POV

"Have we discussed this before? You're already 24 years old; thus, your time as a runway model is short. Even for most girls, it's all over."

I fell silent while staring at the brown-haired man in the mirror. When I heard that, my heart seethed again. I looked down and closed my red lip cream.

"Hey, Fenella. I mean, if you don't feel up to the morning fitting schedule, we can start looking at new opportunities for your career in fashion."

Jessy hugged me from behind while I put on my black knee-high boots. I could tell he was attempting to cheer me up.

We've been working together for seven years, with him serving as my agent and me serving as his model. Many of my successes as a model began at a young age, but the world didn't recognize me as a supermodel as I had hoped early in my career.

My most notable accomplishment thus far has been modeling for multiple Elle and Vogue magazine covers. A dedicated page also features an interview.

I don't want to be ambitious, but I'm not sure if my accomplishments are impressive enough to get acknowledgement from others. Especially from former friends who the hell know where they are today.

"Don't worry, Jess, I won't be late." I packed my bag and got ready to leave.

***

Tom Chase is my boyfriend. We'd been dating for approximately six months and still didn't want to live together. That major step never entered my mind. Tom's reaction remained unchanged, and he, too, seemed unwilling to take the next step.

I got out my phone and checked my message inbox with Tom, but he hadn't responded yet. The clock showed 8 p.m., but Tom didn't appear to have left his office yet. We agreed to have dinner out before heading home, but I'm wondering why he didn't reply to my messages.

'I'll wait for you in the coffee shop across from the studio.'

***

This was outrageous! I couldn't have been more patient than this. I had waited for an hour without any notice from Tom. My mind was still positive; maybe he was working.

So, I stood in front of Tom's office building. My hands clutched a bag containing a few cans of beer, Tom's favorite, that I had just bought from the nearest mini-market. I had a hunch that we would change our dinner plans at the restaurant to dinner at Tom's office, as usual.

I saw lights still on from the windows on the fifth floor of the building, while the other floors were already dark. Just as I suspected, he was still in the office.

Truly, sometimes Tom worked too hard as an accountant. His office building wasn't as luxurious as others, but he worked like a horse. Once again, I could only sigh as Tom chose to work and forget our dinner date.

I then headed up to the fifth floor with the access card Tom had given me. When I arrived on the fifth floor, the office corridor was deserted and dark. There was no one on Tom's accountant's office floor, except for Tom's room with its light still on.

I walked towards the glass door that was covered with curtains. I had no suspicions at all.

"Tom," I knocked on the door and just entered.

It was at that moment that everything started to make sense.

I stood at the door in shock as I witnessed the scene in front of me. Tom jumped in panic, hastily adjusting his open pants, while a woman lay naked on Tom's work desk.

"Fenella?! Shit!"

I knew the woman on Tom's desk well. She was Tom's new secretary, recruited just a month ago. She quickly got up and grabbed Tom's jacket to cover her body.

Instantly, as I saw her covering herself with that jacket, my anger exploded.

"How dare you?!" I snapped at the woman.

I was the one who bought that expensive designer jacket for Tom! It was a birthday gift I gave him. And now, that jacket was being used to cover another woman's naked body?

Ugh, hell no!

"What are you doing here?!" Tom yelled, standing in front of the woman to protect her.

"I should be the one asking!" I yelled back louder than that damn man.

I reached for a can of beer from my bag. Without a word, I threw the beer at Tom, and it hit his shoulder. The man's body bent to shield himself, but the next beer throw hit the woman right in the stomach. That wench screamed and bent to rub her stomach.

"Fenella, stop!" Tom roared angrily.

I dropped the bag on the floor. My hands suddenly felt weak, and I could only tremble there. My breath was gasping, and I tried to contain my anger as much as I could.

No, I wouldn't shed a tear for that man. He didn't deserve a single drop.

"Get out of my office! We're through!" Tom snapped at me.

"You're breaking up with me?! Oh hell no, you bastard! I'm the one walking out of here forever," I said with a frustrated huff.

***

I quickened my pace towards my favorite nightclub in New York. I really needed anything to relieve this stress. From my experience, the hustle and bustle of the club always brought a certain comfort as a remedy for my anxiety, even if I was alone.

Of course, I couldn't tell Jessy because he would surely scold me. I didn't need scolding or advice. Right now, all I needed was a drink and a dance floor.

I saw a crowd of people in front of the club lining up. I was quite surprised when I saw someone I knew there. The man laughed briefly with the doorman before entering the club.

That face! I'll never forget that face! That's Laird Evans!

Fenella's POV

I quickened my pace towards the nightclub. There was a long line to get into the club. They were just ordinary people. Meanwhile, thanks to Jessy and my agency, I had member access to several entertainment venues in New York.

One of them was the popular Club Davo. One membership card to improve my reputation and those of the places I visited. I showed my annual membership card to the doorman. He nodded and grinned as he allowed me in.

I immediately walked to the bar because I was sure Laird wouldn't go to the dance floor. My guess turned out to be correct, and I could immediately see him in the bar.

No mistake! Finally, I have found him!

I saw him sitting side by side with a brunette girl I didn't know. With their stiff body gestures, I knew the man had just met the woman. It's just that the woman kept teasing with her daring fingers, caressing the man's neck.

Stop! Get away from him! I couldn't let this happen!

I moved closer until I was right next to them. The brunette girl was the first to acknowledge my presence. Then I interrupted to stand in the middle.

"Hi," I smiled at him.

His eyes were widening, and he gasped. He stared at me for a long time, and his face seemed as if he were seeing a ghost.

"Fenella?!"

"Miss me?" I asked him with a smile.

"Do you know this bitch?" the brown-haired woman asked Laird in annoyance.

"I'm her date." I cut her off.

Hearing that, the woman scoffed and got off the bar stool. As soon as she left, I immediately took the seat to replace her. Laird just gave me a crooked smile as he watched me intently.

"Wow, Fenella. You look so different," Laird said, his gaze seemingly captivated by mine.

"Yeah. Do you like my new look?" I asked, running my fingers through my straight hair.

Laird chuckled, seemingly at a loss for words. He shook his head with a wide smile.

"This is truly a surprise. We should celebrate this reunion," Laird said.

"Two vodkas," I ordered the bartender, handing over my membership card to claim my three free drinks per night.

Laird smiled crookedly again, one eyebrow raised. Once more, he seemed surprised as I confidently presented my exclusive membership card. He continued to gaze at my face, then my body, down to my feet.

"Are you really Fenella Baxter? The spoiled girl from Boston?" he asked again, half in disbelief.

I laughed at Laird's question. I guess I managed to impress the guy. Of course. I've worked hard to get to this point, and it seems to be paying off.

No, not enough yet. I still have to make him beg for my love. I still have to make him melt in my hands.

"Yes, I'm Fenella Baxter, your neighbor from Boston. But I'm no longer the spoiled girl you once knew," I said as the bartender placed two vodka shots in front of us.

"Cheers!" I raised my shot and toasted.

In one shot, the hot liquid burned inside my mouth. The vodka seemed to strike right at my heart and gut. It was tight and uncomfortable, but I liked it. Better like this. I could feel the pain in my body rather than dealing with unseen pain from a heartbreak.

"I'm surprised you can handle the heat of this drink." Laird smirked, still with an unbroken gaze.

"Of course. I've grown up," I said slowly.

"Funny. I don't recall maturity being judged by one's ability to drink alcohol," he snorted before raising his shot to the bartender for a refill.

He held his words as the bartender refilled our shots. Afterward, without pause, we raised our glasses again and drank them dry. I groaned softly as, once again, the vodka fueled the fire inside me. I knew my limit was three drinks, but I felt tonight was an exception.

"So, what's your parameter?" I asked spontaneously.

"Occupation," he answered shortly.

"Fashion model," I quickly said. "And you?"

"Corporate lawyer," he said with a shrug.

"You can't stray far from your father's grasp," I said sympathetically.

"But I live independently in New York. Far from him," Laird countered to refute my assumption that he still lived under his father's thumb.

"Oh, I've also become an independent woman. Look, I came to the club alone," I shrugged.

"And why is that?" Laird asked with a tone I thought hid a hidden meaning.

"I just broke up with my boyfriend," I replied bluntly.

"Really? Is that why you dared to claim that you're my date now?" he asked, his eyes darkening.

"You seem to need help," I said with a shrug.

"Actually, I don't need any help at all," Laird said with a thin, meaningful grin as he raised his hand again for a vodka refill.

"Does that mean I should leave?" I asked.

"On the contrary, now you have to drink with me," he said, raising his shot again for another toast.

I downed my third vodka of the night. I knew I was pushing my drinking tolerance, but I didn't want to be seen as a child in front of him again. It seems the man can drink strong now, and I shouldn't show my weakness to him at the moment.

"Come on, let's dance," I said, pulling Laird's arm.

I was starting to get a bit tipsy, and I didn't want to end the night early. I knew dancing would keep me sober longer. Laird just huffed and shook his head.

"You know I'm not good at dancing," he said.

"Then why did you come here if not to dance?" I asked, still holding onto his arm.

"For the crowd," Laird shrugged.

"Oh, come on," I still insisted, and eventually, Laird complied.

We broke through the dance floor and began to blend in with the crowd. I swayed my hips and jumped around. Occasionally, my hands brushed against Laird's, and he would embrace my waist, our bodies colliding.

Maybe because I was tipsy, but I felt so happy tonight. All the annoying incidents with Tom were quickly erased by Laird's presence. Isn't he always there at the right moment?

Laird was in my arms, and we could dance together again. I just realized Laird's body was taller than I remembered. His jawline became sharper with a chest that turned out to be very sturdy.

Truly, I was curious about everything beneath his clothes. Every touch I felt while dancing only drove me wilder.

Suddenly, the crowd near us cheered. One of them seemed to be celebrating a birthday and was challenged by their friends to do a body shot. Unfortunately, the young girl seemed hesitant and shy to accept the challenge.

"Do you see that?" I asked, tilting my chin. I and Laird locked eyes after seeing them.

"Do you dare?" he asked with a mischievous grin.